Union
by PrairieLily
Summary: On the biggest day of his son's life, Sherlock Holmes straightens his hated bow tie and helps him to prepare to marry his soulmate, Rosie Watson. Background Sherlolly, cameos by Greg Lestrade and Eurus, this is the fluffiest of fluffily fluff and references "Eight Minutes". Second chapter is up from Rosie's side of things and completes the story... THAT escalated quickly!
1. Chapter 1

_Pure fluffily fluff, this is set far into the future, on the wedding day of Will Holmes - son of Sherlock and Molly, and Rosie Watson (of course we all know who Rosie is!). There are references to "Eight Minutes" but it isn't necessary to read that story to understand what's going on. This started as a oneshot too late last night, but I think it asks me to write a second chapter, from the perspective of the BRIDE'S simultaneous preparations. For the first time ever, I am breaking my own rule and posting before it's complete, but if I know myself, I doubt it will be very long before the second chapter appears on my computer screen, relating Rosie's preparations with the help of Molly, Mrs. Hudson, and Eurus. Of course, these are not my characters, with the exception of Will Holmes, who is inspired by characters created by Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, and THEIR inspiration and of course the creator of the core characters, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. No copyright infringement is intended._

* * *

John Victor William Holmes stood in front of the full length mirror. Behind him, only a couple of inches taller than him, stood his father Sherlock.

The elder Holmes straightened his bow tie, still not comfortable with it, but willing to do anything for his son and only child on this day. The formerly jet black locks hadn't lost their lustre – or their lackadaisical curls over the years, but they had gained a few streaks of silver "wisdom highlights" to accompany the deepened laugh lines around his blue green eyes. He was convinced that the strapping young man standing in front of him had more than a little bit to do with the silvering curls on his head, and the extra lines on his face. The fact that 25 years had passed since his own wedding day couldn't _possibly_ have had anything to do with the graceful signs of aging he carried. He thought to Molly, assisting the bride downstairs with Mrs Hudson as they awaited Eurus's hoped arrival from Sherrinford on a day pass to complete the women's brigade. Molly had escaped the years with nothing more than a small single streak of subtle silver at her left temple – one easily hidden by a well-thought out ponytail. Were Sherlock Holmes a creature of physical vanity rather than intellectual, he may have felt more than a little bit bitter about his wife's graceful sailing through the years.

Had he been a man of more realistic and less biased view of his wife, however, he might have noticed that she had, in actual fact, earned a few more wisdom highlights than he thought, and the lines around her eyes indicating a life and marriage of happiness and laughter a bit more numerous than he perceived. But, as he always had, Sherlock generally saw what he wanted to, and little else. In his eyes, his Molly would always be radiant and forever young.

"Well Dad," Will said, his baritone voice closely matching his father's. "How do I look? Do you think she'll still want to marry me?"

Sherlock smiled at his grown son's reflection in the mirror. "I've no doubt whatsoever my son. Are you ready for this? Really, really ready?"

Will smiled nervously, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a gush of anticipation. "Yeah, Dad. I'm really, really ready. Where're Mum and Hudders?" he asked, referring to Mrs. Hudson by his dad's old nickname for their landlady, now quite elderly but still as spunky as ever, and proud as punch that this day had finally arrived.

Uncle Mycroft may have predicted it 22 years ago, but Mrs. Hudson had ensured it with her gentle encouragements and sly ministrations when Will and Rosie seemed close to being on the outs yet again. She knew the disagreements were minor, but young love was young love, even if it had been in the works since they had been old enough to develop their own language to communicate with each other in code. It still had its ups and downs.

"Probably down with Rosie helping her out," Sherlock said lightly. Damnit if Mycroft hadn't been right after all. One day, he had said, his nephew and John's daughter would join their families together officially. "Weddings are for brides, son. All the groom need do is to dress up, show up, and shut up. Your mother and Hudders are no doubt convincing her not to bugger off before John has a chance to walk her down the aisle."

"I've already grilled her on that Sherlock," John Watson said, breezing through the door. "Bad news son," he said to Will, "wedding's still on." He winked at his godson and very soon to be son-in-law through the mirror.

"Ah, Uncle," Will chuckled, "I can always count on you to bring the really GOOD news, can't I," he teased. "Seriously though… how is she?"

John smiled proudly. "She's beautiful and stunning and happier than I have seen her since the day you barged into 221B with her in tow, demanded audience with me, and asked for my blessing." He clapped a hand on Will's shoulder, glancing over at Sherlock.

A look of sadness briefly passed over John's face, a look that was not lost on Sherlock.

Over the decades, the two best friends had learned to communicate without words.

 _"She looks like Mary did, doesn't she?"_ Sherlock asked him, wordlessly.

 _"Spitting image,"_ John replied in silence. _"I don't know if I should laugh or cry."_

"Laugh," Sherlock said out loud. "Molly, Hudders, and Rosie will provide enough tears for all of us. And Eurus too, if Mycroft manages to secure her day pass today."

Will rose an eyebrow at his father and his godfather. There they were at it again. That annoying way they had of talking to each other without actually TALKING. Okay, so maybe he and Rosie did it all the time, but that was DIFFERENT.

"I'm sure Uncle Mycroft will manage to get Auntie Eurus here," Will reassured them. "He promised, and Uncle Myc never reneges on his promises to me. But dad… speaking of promises…"

"Right here," Sherlock smiled. He glanced over to the sofa where his violin sat, still in its case. "I've practiced it, I hope I've gotten it right. It's been so many years since I heard it I confess I'm a little worried."

John had heard Sherlock practice the piece, and had smiled happily. He was glad that the violin piece Will had composed for Rosie when he was only 6 years old, and she was 8, had managed to come through the years without having been lost to time, or multiple packings up to move somewhere for schooling, or jobs, or the temporary move back home to 221B in between flats as life carried them forward – or even the ravages of time upon paper, fraying the edges and turning them brittle and fragile, as it was apt to do.

"Play it Dad, please? I just want to make sure?" Will pleaded.

Sherlock glanced at John, and then towards the door as Mycroft entered silently, smiling with satisfaction. _"I've brought Eurus, brother mine,"_ he communicated to Sherlock, in much the same way Sherlock talked wordlessly to John. _"She's with the ladies downstairs settling in."_

 _"Thank you Uncle Mine, I love you,"_ Will grinned at him. Mycroft's eyes grew large and Sherlock and John shared a knowing look of amusement at Mycroft's reaction.

"What, you didn't think the apple would fall far from _that_ tree, did you Uncle Myc?" Will voiced out loud. His baritone laughter echoed through the room, his mood clearly lightened and his mind at ease for the first time all day. Everyone important was here now. The only one missing from the room was his dad's old New Scotland Yard cronie, Greg Lestrade, and Will knew that Greg was downstairs somewhere in the trenches, making sure that the officiant and the ushers and all of the small details were handled seamlessly at the last minute.

Sherlock, in the meantime, had removed his violin from the case. Plucking the strings gently, he adjusted the tension while John set up the music stand and set the yellowing sheet music out.

Just outside, Rosie, decked out in her mother's wedding dress and taking a stroll through the hallways to clear her head, having wisely taken Aunt Eurus's suggestion to get away from the stifling smother mothers that were Molly and Mrs. Hudson. Happening past the door, she paused, hearing the familiar voices inside, and Uncle Sherlock plucking and tuning his violin.

Strains of memory echoed through her mind as Uncle Sherlock began to play the old piece that Will had composed for her after their visit to Sherrinford to see Aunt Eurus all those years ago. It had been a long flight back home from the island facility that evening, but she and Will had been too wired from the day to sleep. They had left the adults to their own devices in the living room while she had curled up in the big chair in Will's room, listening to him compose a gift for her.

She hadn't forgotten about it, but she hadn't heard it in years either. She had hoped that Will had preserved the aging sheet music, composed in his childish, 6 year old hand, but was relieved to discover that he had, indeed, managed to keep it safe. Uncle Sherlock didn't play it with the same kind of love that Will did, but he did play it like it belonged in her heart, in the same way he played everything he played for her. She knew that Will had planned to have his dad play it for them as they danced their first dance as husband and wife, and she was glad for the sentiment.

 _"Ready when you are, love,"_ she whispered to him silently through the door.

Will sensed her presence outside and heard her sweet voice in his heart. _"Meet you downstairs, my RosieRose,"_ he replied.

Rosie paused a moment more as Sherlock's violin played the final notes of the piece. Smiling happily, she turned and headed back down to where the women were. Lestrade ran into her and offered an arm, tsking at her ventures so close to the groom. "Bad luck my dear," the recently retired DI scolded gently, his velvet voice unchanged through the years. "Can't let him see you before the ceremony." He winked at her as she took his arm and allowed him to lead her back on track towards the stairs. Greg always did have the situation in hand.

Inside the door, Will braced himself then glanced at Sherlock. "In for a penny, in for a pound, Dad," he said. "Uncles, shall we?" He gestured briefly towards the door. The four men, led by Will, took one last moment to straighten their ties and tug at their jackets, then, single file, headed downstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

_Well... THIS escalated quickly. I wasn't expecting to finish this so quickly, especially considering that just a few hours ago I had only toyed with the idea of a second chapter from Rosie's side of the wedding and hadn't even thought about a plot for it. I hope I've made it tie into the first chapter without too many continuity errors!_

* * *

Rosie Watson stood in front of the full length mirror, her eyes closed as her godmother, Dr. Molly Hooper-Holmes finished fastening up the back of her bridal gown.

Molly managed to manipulate the fastenings through tear-blurred eyes, thinking back to how Rosie's mother, Mary Watson, had looked on her own wedding day so many years ago. Such a joyous day this was, but it was so bittersweet as well. Rosie stood in front of them looking so much like Mary had that both Molly and their landlady and dear friend, Mrs. Hudson, couldn't help but grab for the tissues.

"Oh come on now Auntie Molly, you're going to ruin your makeup! What will Uncle Sherlock say?" Rosie lowered her voice, imitating her godfather. "Molly darling, turn off the taps. You're going to look dreadful in the photos, we've only one child you know, it's not as though we're going to have another shot at this," Rosie teased gently, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"Oh hush now dear girl," Mrs. Hudson said lightly. "Your godmother is about to become your mother-in-law. You know what sort of reputation THEY have. Don't sass her, now!"

Molly giggled softly, Rosie's efforts having the desired effect. "Well, Hudders, maybe I'm just thrilled that this darling beautiful creature is about to become my daughter for real. Oh you're going to give Sherlock and I the most GORGEOUS grandbabies!"

A male voice cleared his throat awkwardly behind them. "Slow down, Molly," John said, "I'm having a hard enough time giving my daughter away to your son in marriage. One thing at a time please!"

"Daddy!" Rosie cried, launching herself at her father. John found his breath catching and a burning in his chest rising to his throat as he took in the vision of his daughter in her mother's wedding dress. He had known Rosie had planned to wear it, but mentally he hadn't prepared himself quite yet for the reality of seeing her actually in it on her wedding day.

John caught his daughter and hugged her close to him, shutting his eyes tightly, composing himself. Finally, after a few moments, he opened his eyes and pulled away from her, grasping her shoulders and looking down at her with mock seriousness. "You know Rosie, you're not married yet. It's not too late to change your mind," John teased. Rosie smiled at him.

"Nice try dad," she giggled. "Will and I already had our pre-wedding row. I think it was probably just nerves. Would you believe we actually fought about whether we should serve chardonnay or pinot grigio?"

Mrs. Hudson laughed from the corner, where she was making last minute adjustments to Rosie's bridal bouquet. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Cabernet sauvignon of course, silly girl!" She winked at the bride, her spunk and sense of humour intact in spite of her advancing years.

"Well… it was worth a try anyway," he shrugged. Rosie glared at him. "Oh my sweet girl, I'm joking!"

"Shouldn't you be upstairs with the men, John?" Molly said, her eyes drifting back to her son's beautiful bride. "You know, adjusting your ties and scratching your arses or something? We're waiting on word from Mycroft anyway. He should be back from Sherrinford anytime now."

"I suppose you're right," he conceded, turning back to Rosie. "I just wanted to see you one last time while you're still my little girl," he said to her, his voice beginning to thicken again, "and not a married woman I've just willingly given away." John smiled at his grown daughter and laughed softly. "I really am so incredibly happy, Rosie. I could not have chosen a better man for you myself. Today you have chosen to marry your best friend, and that is a blessing beyond measure." Try as he might, John Watson could not stop the tears from falling down his cheeks this time. Rosie smiled softly, and offered up a lacy handkerchief for her father to try his eyes with.

"Oh, GO ON now, John Hamish Watson," Mrs. Hudson said, sniffling frantically. "You're ruining everyone's makeup now. Go on, Will and Sherlock are upstairs waiting. Mycroft will be along shortly and Greg is wandering about keeping things organized."

"Right then," he said, grinning. He paused to give his daughter one last kiss on the cheek.

"I'll always be your little girl, dad," she said reassuringly. "And Will is already your godson. We're just mixing things up a bit is all, changing the dynamic, rearranging the relationships a bit. Go on now. They're waiting."

No sooner had John left the room when another knock was heard on the door. "Are you decent, dear girl?" Mycroft's voice was heard from the hallway.

"Oh don't be ridiculous, brother," another voice was heard saying. "Of course she's decent. We would never allow an indecent woman to marry OUR nephew."

Molly's eyes grew large. Mycroft had done it! She glanced over at Rosie, and the two women threw themselves at the doorway.

"Aunt Eurus!" Rosie cried, throwing herself at the older woman with a wild bear hug and pulling her into the room. Molly, more dignified but just as grateful, embraced Mycroft and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Thank you, Mycroft," she said quietly. "This really means so much to Will and Rosie. Eurus has made so much progress over the years thanks to them and I know they wanted her here very badly."

Mycroft nodded, smiling briefly. "It was my pleasure, and the desire for her to be present today was mutual, I assure you. She's been looking forward to this for weeks, but it was only last night I finally obtained the clearance to grant her a full weekend pass. That by itself was a surprise, we really only hoped for her to be granted release for the day. Oh, by the way, a word of warning. She has brought her violin. She wanted to bring her cello, but I'm afraid the helicopter couldn't accommodate such a large instrument without damaging it. She will make do, I am certain. I have a suspicion she has something very special planned, and I'm not sure she hasn't been conspiring with Sherlock either."

"Oh hush, Mycroft," Eurus scolded. "You'll ruin the surprise. You always were a stick in the mud, I see nothing has changed in 60 years."

"Indeed," Mycroft said, with as much dignity as he could find. Even Mycroft had mellowed somewhat over the passing years and he knew deep down she was right. "Well, with that having been established, I believe I shall take my leave now. My nephew and brother are upstairs, I believe. I think it's time I joined them. Ladies," he said, smiling politely, and "Rosie," he said, with much more warmth in his smile this time. "You are a vision of pure loveliness. Welcome to the family. Did you know that I predicted this day back when…" he started to brag, as Molly rolled her eyes and shoved him out the door.

"We KNOW, Mycroft. You are _terribly_ clever and wise," Molly said with mock facetiousness. "Now go fix your tie and scratch your arse with the men."

Mycroft uttered surprisingly little protest as his sister-in-law ushered him out the door unceremoniously.

As the door was closed, Molly and Rosie picked up the beginning strains of a song they hadn't heard in years. Looking over at Eurus, they observed as Mrs. Hudson worked on bringing her hair into an elegant salt and pepper updo, deftly dodging the bow that Eurus moved in smooth and graceful motion, playing a piece that Will had composed for her for her birthday when he was just a babe of 6 years old.

Molly and Rosie paused what they had been doing and wrapped their arms around eachother's waists. The listened, enraptured, as Eurus played, until finally she reached the closing notes. "Do you think William will remember this?" she asked, smiling at them. "I hoped to play it with Sherlock for you."

Rosie sighed happily. Oh, how she loved the women assembled in this room… but it was suddenly getting stuffy in here, and she realized, she needed a little time to herself before she marched down the aisle on her dad's arm and changed her life forever.

Eurus rose from the chair she had seated herself on to examine Mrs. Hudson's handiwork. With a smile, she approved, reaching up gently to touch the small curls that framed her ears. Glancing upwards, she noticed Rosie's reflection from behind her.

Eurus turned around and approached her new niece. "Why don't you go for a little walk, Rosamund," she whispered softly. "I agree it's stuffy in here and I've only just arrived. They… I mean WE mean well, but..." she trailed off, losing her words. Rosie nodded, smiling.

"You're right, Auntie. I'll be back in a bit. Thank you," she said, kissing the older woman on the cheek. A look of confusion briefly crossed over Eurus's eyes before she reached up to brush Rosie's cheek gently with her hand.

"I'm going for a short stroll," Rosie announced, turning towards the door. "Don't worry, I'm not buggering off and standing Will up at the altar. I just need to clear my head a bit is all." Molly's brows furrowed in concern.

"Oh no worries Molly dear," Mrs. Hudson said lightly, hooking her hand into Molly's elbow. "Greg is prowling the hallways. She won't get far. Even in his younger days, I never saw Sherlock as bored as Greg gets these days. I've never seen an honoured guest volunteer so quickly for something as mundane as a wedding party wrangler. I suppose retirement is a pair of shoes he's yet to break in."

No sooner had Rosie left, it seemed, than she returned on Greg Lestrade's arm. "I found this pretty little bride skulking about her groom's floor. She came dangerously close to botching the whole thing, I think," he winked.

"Oh, that's just an old wives tale Gregory," Eurus scolded lightly. She approached the retired DI, smiling. Greg returned the smile, offering his arm to her.

"Old wives who never bollocksed up their luck by parading in front of their grooms in their wedding attire, no doubt," Greg smiled at her, unable to stop the hint of a flirt he hadn't quite intended.

Eurus shook her head at him, sighing lightly. Men could be such silly creatures, but so charming at the same time. It was a good thing she wasn't prone to being influenced by masculine charm and handsome faces, or Greg Lestrade would surely… wait… where was that thought going again?

"Ladies, I believe a marriage ceremony awaits," Greg announced to the room, tearing his smile away from Eurus. "Will and his entourage have headed down to the chapel, I suggest we get a move on to meet John there.

With one final smile to one another, Rosie, leading the group, headed out the door, into the hallway, and towards her forever.


End file.
